Swann Lockhearst: The Girl on Fire
by hollywoodsbitch
Summary: With everyone creating such a hubbub over the "Girl on Fire" Katniss Everdeen, no one took the time to see who was lurking behind her flames, who was smouldering in the background and waiting for her chance to burn.
1. Prologue

I knew Katniss Everdeen was trouble from the first day we met.

It was a month after the deadly mine explosion. I had just lost my father, like so many of my classmates. We all trudged into school that Monday, unable to look each other in the eyes. But in the middle of history, my teacher began preaching about the accident that was still so fresh in our minds. She admonished the fallen miners, and told us how their lives couldn't have been lost in vain, because a life lost in pursuit of serving the Capitol is a life well spent. It was enough to make me sick. After about thirty minutes of this indoctrination, I couldn't take anymore, and ran out into the hallway crying. I remember feeling like I was crying so hard my whole body would come apart, and hearing my heart pounding in my ears. I remember sitting there on the cold linoleum floor sobbing for what felt like forever before looking up to see two gray eyes looking into mine, and a hand reaching towards me.

"What's wrong?" A soft voice asked.

It took me a while to realize that it was Katniss Everdeen who crouched in front of me, waiting for me to return her gaze, her question which still hung in the air like the coal smog of the Seam. I swallowed and attempted to answer her, but only a squeak came out.

"It's just that, that I," I paused, taking a moment to compose myself again before continuing. "It's just that I really miss my dad, is all," was all I was able to choke out before another sob caught in my throat. When I finally calmed down again, I looked up at her, waiting for further consolation.

But no further consolation would come from Katniss Everdeen, not that day or any other day after that. Her once warm gaze was now cold and disconnected as she threw down my hand and stood to her full height, then towering over me. Her mouth, which previously rested in the gentle curve of an ambivalent smile, was now pulled back in a taut, thin line of indifference, almost indignance.

"So?" she spat, backing away from me as she spoke. "Life goes on. And your tears won't bring him back. So just, just get over it!" She turned and stalked away from me, leaving me in her wake of frustration and anger.

I knew from that moment that our casual friendship had been terminated, maybe for good. I'd squandered my time with her. Forget trying to reach out to her, forget forging a meaningful connection to someone so similar to me. From that moment forward, I hated Katniss Everdeen with every fiber of my being: for kicking me when I was down, burning a bridge that was halfway built, leaving me out in the cold.

Fast forward five years, to the reaping of District 12 for the 74th Annual Hunger Games. I stood in the square alongside my mother, gripping her hand with near deadly force. At 16, my name would be submitted 10 times: 5 times for the number of years I'd been eligible to be a tribute, 5 more for the tessarae taken out in my name. I was forced to stay in the moment at hand by an eery screech of the microphone that stood on the stage. Behind it stood a woman I could only describe as colorful and Capitol. She gave the usual introduction, welcoming us to the reaping, then stood aside as the history of Panem, the rebellions, and the Hunger Games played on two large screens above her. When the video ended, she stepped back up to the microphone to announce the beginning of the selection, then walked over to a large bowl containing the names of the girls that were eligible to be tribute. As she fished around for a card and began unfolding it, I felt my mother gripping my hand with every ounce of force she had.

The Capitol woman smiled and leaned forward into the microphone. "Primrose Everdeen."

My jaw dropped. Prim? How could little Prim have been chosen? She was only a child, for God's sake. Her name was only in the running once. My mind was racing now, trying desperately to unthink every thought of malice I'd ever aimed at Katniss. But what happened next shocked me even more.

"I volunteer! No, I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

A hush fell across the crowd as everyone whipped around to see who had spoken. But I knew who volunteered before I saw her face: Katniss Everdeen had stepped into her sister's place. The Capitol woman positively sparkled with excitement as she invited Katniss up to the stage, while Prim dissolved into tears and was hauled away by a sobered Gale, one of the Everdeen family's close friends. A single tear slid down Katniss's face as she climbed the stairs to stand next to the woman.

The rest of the reaping and the hours after became a blur. Another boy I went to school with was reaped: the baker's son Peeta Mellark. I'd admired Peeta for years. His silent strength, his kind heart, his gentle words. All were features that initially drew me to him. We'd spoken in passing, but never had the courage to really talk to him. And now he was headed to the Capitol to die, alongside my former friend and current enemy Katniss. Since that day five years ago, all I'd ever wanted was to have her out of my life. But not like this. Not when it would affect Prim and her mother and everyone else that depended on her. But at this point, there was nothing I could do. Just wait, and ironically hope the odds would be in her favor.


	2. Chapter 1

The thing that divides people the most in District 12 is status. Even though we're all dirt poor and covered in coal dust, people always find a way to make themselves seem better than others. Which I'm sure the Capitol was just fine with. Unity is too dangerous.

After my father died, my mother and I were left completely flat. I was only twelve years old, not yet old enough to work in the mines, and my mother completely disintegrated after his death. So, being the only one able and willing to support our two-person household, I started working whatever odd jobs I could, which included taking tessarae out in my name. My mother eventually came around, and we didn't want for much with both of us working and taking side jobs when we could. But until she recovered, I had no other way to provide for us besides depending on the government for extra help. It was either that or starve.

Granted, I didn't have it as bad as some of the other kids I knew. Many of the families who'd lost a parent in the mines banded together after the incident. We all grew together like some deformed little family, bonding over our loss and hardship. Gale Hawthorne, one of the older boys, was now the sole provider for his three younger siblings and his kids who weren't as capable as me and Gale had to go to the group home after their remaining parent went insane from the loss of their spouse. If Katniss couldn't hunt, I knew she'd be right there with all the other parentless kids, along with little Prim. Despite my hate for Katniss, I could never wish that on the rest of her family. Prim was so small and gentle, and incredibly sweet. Nothing like her older sister. And her mother seemed so fragile, like any little trip or misstep would cause her to turn to dust. Like my mother used to be. I worked under Mrs. Everdeen when I had time, learning little tricks and trades of medicine to make some extra money. I never had to worry about running into Katniss though. She was always busy hunting, trading, or spending time with Gale; I probably spent more time in her own house than she did.

But now everything was different. With Katniss gone, everyone was on edge. A girl who tried her best to stay under the radar left such a large gap when she left, sending waves of anxiety throughout much of District 12. Prim and Mrs. Everdeen seemed even more fragile and defenseless than ever, Gale was broody and distracted, everyone at the Hob that depended on Katniss' hunting seemed lost without the fresh meat regularly coming in. And I couldn't stand it. It's not like I wanted Katniss to die in that arena; her family would be lost without her. But it was like choosing the lesser of two evils. If she dies, the Everdeens are lost, Gale presumably goes crazy, and I'm wracked with guilt for all the terrible things I'd wished on her for years. But if she survives, then she would become the first victor from 12 in twenty-four years, and Katniss Everdeen becomes a household name. For the rest of her life, everyone in the District and the Capitol would sing her praises and bow to her every whim. Either way, the "Girl on Fire" would have a lasting effect on us. On all of us.

Girl on Fire. That's what everyone in the Capitol was calling her. For the first presentation of each District's tributes in the Capitol, the tributes wear a costume that resembles something that that district produces: technology, agriculture, textiles. For us that was coal, so usually our tributes showed up in dumpy, ill-fitting overalls and safety helmets, smudged in glittery black dust. But not this year. When Katniss and Peeta came out on their chariot, they were dressed in matching black jumpsuits and headdresses, with bright orange flames flying behind them as they waved to the Capitol crowd. And that crowd was absolutely mad over them. The announcers began referring to Katniss as "The Girl on Fire", painting her as some dark, powerful hero. What a crock of shit. Katniss did not have a heroic bone in her body. She did what she did for her family out of necessity, not out of the kindness of her heart. She'd be shunned if she'd abandoned her family, but that's exactly what she would have done, had her mother not have been so feeble and broken after the incident. She didn't go out of her way to help anyone but herself. She even denied Peeta, who was surely her only saving grace.

That's right, Peeta Mellark, the baker's boy, proclaimed his undying love for Katniss Everdeen on live national television. Everyone in District 12 stood huddled in the square, looking up at a huge projection screen. We chatted and made jokes during the other tributes' interviews, but gave our undivided to the tributes of 12. I don't know what was worse, watching everyone react to Peeta or to Katniss. The second the word "love" popped out of Peeta's mouth, the square echoed with open-mouthed gasps. Many people smiled after that; older couples looked at each other with knowing glances, young girls clasped their hands to their hearts. Gale looked as if he was ready to kill. Everyone waited with baited breath to hear or see Katniss' response. And she stood in bold indifference, her stony expression unchanging as the cameras panned to her face, waiting, I'm sure, to see her explode with joy. But of course, Katniss just stood there, staring straight through everyone like she loves to do. Whether or not Peeta was telling the truth about loving her since childhood, she felt nothing for him, and she made that abundantly clear. Someone like Katniss didn't deserve this. The applause from the Capitol, the support from home, the love from Peeta and Gale, none of it.

A week had passed since the interviews, and commotion over the Games died down, if only for a while. The tributes were busy training, both physically and mentally, so the nightly programs weren't half as interesting as the games themselves would surely be. I'd decided that I wanted Katniss to die. Yes, it was selfish. No, I didn't care. And I didn't care whether or not Peeta died, but I did want Katniss to die in that arena. No. To be killed in that arena. I wanted to watch the footage in the square, and watch the repeated tape as often as they play it, and have a copy for myself. My only regret is that only one girl from each district could be sent as a tribute. I would've loved to kill her by my own hand.

I had my future all worked out that this point. Katniss would be killed in the arena by a Career tribute from District 1 or 2, tributes who trained for combat, then volunteered at age eightteen. I would marry Gale, and he'd teach me how to hunt. With him working and both of us hunting, we'd be able to provide for both the Hawthornes and the Everdeens. And everyone would forget the name Katniss. It isn't like I lusted after Gale. But I wasn't stupid. If Katniss came home, she'd be living in the memory of Peeta, to whom she was now romantically tied. If she died, Gale would be left without a girl of his own. Either way, I won. I wasn't so anxious to get married, but I knew Gale was one of my best choices. We were on amicable terms as of late. Gale wasn't very social to begin with, so when his right hand and confidante was sent off to the Capitol, he turned to his only other good friend: me. Gale was strong, smart, caring, and able to provide. Any girl would kill to have him as a husband. Of course, Katniss never paid him much mind when she was still around. She routinely ignored him if she was in a bad mood, and pushed him away for weeks at a time whenever someone suggested that there might be anything romantic going on between them. Anyone with eyes could see how much he cared for Katniss, but just like Peeta's confession of love, that meant nothing to her. Katniss cared about only her own feelings.

But my grand plan was ruined by Katniss. Again. It was indirect this time, but even still, she prevented me from getting what I wanted. Even miles away, she held Gale in some kind of trance. He stayed loyal to her, throughout the entirety of the games. Every nightly viewing was abuzz with new information about the pair of star-crossed lovers from District 12: how long they'd known each other, how they were working together now against the other tributes, new footage of their kisses and caresses. Enough to make me sick. But surprisingly enough, not sickening enough to Gale. Even though he openly berated Peeta, labeling him as weak and incompetent, still he watched the games every night. His eyes would be glued to the screen each time Katniss appeared. Watching her kiss and hug and fall asleep with this boy didn't phase Gale at all. He seemed to love her more, his affection for her only intensified as her relationship with Peeta grew.

This issue came to a head the week they came to interview the families. After a week of the games, reporters from the Capitol go around to the families and friends of the remaining tributes, interviewing them about their life before the games and their chance of winning now that the playing field had been narrowed. I was upstairs in the Everdeen's house the day they came to interview Prim and her mother. I sat on the stairs, out of sight of the cameras, while I listened to the Everdeens praise Katniss' efforts thus far and wish her good luck. They celebrated her skill with her bow and arrow, her dedication to Peeta, and her will to survive. The Capitol people interviewed Gale and his mother Hazelle next. The funniest thing about that interview, besides seeing how rigid and awkward Gale was around the cameras, was learning that the Hawthornes and the Everdeens were related, cousins as it were. Of course, they weren't actually related, but to play up the romance between Katniss and Peeta, they had to squash the romance that grew back in 12, so someone came up with the brilliant idea of making the two cousins. To anyone that didn't know them, it seemed believable enough. They did favor each other in a way: the same straight dark hair, olive skin, and slate grey eyes. And it did help me as far as regaining Gale goes, if he was still convincible.

By now I'd given up the idea of believing and wishing that Katniss would die in the games. With her and Peeta teaming up, driven by the change of rules that determined that two victors could return home, the idea of taking Gale from her became more delicious than the idea of watching her die. If she came home with Peeta, that would mean that the love story, bogus or not, would continue on for the rest of their lives. And if I had Gale for myself, she had no other option but to watch, silently and helplessly. What could she do, denounce Peeta and proclaim her love for Gale? The Capitol would never allow it. Now that she was stuck in this pretend love affair with Peeta, she had no chance to reconnect with Gale. It'd be perfect. Either way, I'd get to watch her die. And I'd savor every moment of it.


	3. Chapter 2

The day that I had anticipated for weeks had finally come. The day that Katniss and Peeta would return to District 12 after winning the Hunger Games.

I have to admit, even I was impressed by the pair's power and will to survive. They outsmarted the remaining Careers, charmed their patrons into giving them countless gifts of food and medicine, and outran all kinds of hellish muttations. I almost thought they wouldn't make it home, though. Just as the last tribute died, the Gamemakers announced that the rules had changed, and only one tribute could live. This was the ultimate disappointment to everyone in 12. Up until then, we'd gotten used to the idea of two tributes coming home, both members of the star-crossed couple returning to District 12. But Katniss surprised us all again. Instead of figuring out which one of them should die, she poured out two handfuls of poisonous berries, one for her and one of Peeta. In that moment alone, every single person watching held their breath. Her intentions were crystal clear. Either there would be two victors, or there would be none.

Watching the final moment of the Games back in District 12 was almost unbearable. Nearly every citizen of 12 stood crowded in the town square, standing near the stage or leaning out of windows in the adjacent buildings. The cries of victory and happiness that came with the death of the last Career were mixed in with a dangerous undertone of bloodlust. I hated that the Games did that to people. There were always people who stood morally against the Games, like Gale, but even he cheered for the other Districts' failure. Grown men and women, upstanding members of communities, cheering for the death of children. It made my blood run cold to see the graphic murder of the Career tribute at the hands, or paws, of the muttations that chased him. But that meant Katniss and Peeta would come home, which I suppose I wanted. Even Gale seemed relieved, seemingly not yet understanding that his "friend" Katniss would be romantically linked to the baker's boy for the rest of their lives. But chaos broke out when the Gamemakers announced the rule change. Peeta's parents stood unmoving, silent tears sliding down their faces. Katniss's mother simply collapsed. Gale caught her, and Prim stroked her hair as she shed silent tears of her own. I'm glad Mrs. Everdeen wasn't looking at the screen when Katniss pulled out those poisonous berries; I'm sure seeing her daughter suggest suicide would've caused a heart attack. Everyone who still looked at the screen held their breath as each tribute held a handful of berries.

Of course her little plan worked. The Gamemakers called off the change of rules and congratulated Peeta and Katniss as the two victors of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. The square erupted in a fit of elation when the previous rule stood, and it was clear to everyone that two children of 12 would be returning. I heard Prim whisper to her mother what I'm sure everyone was thinking. It's over. It's all over. And here the star-crossed lovers were in front of us now, holding hands and beaming down at the citizens of 12. I stood between her mother and Gale, waiting for her to see me standing with her family. Prim stood in front of me, waving up at her sister. That morning she'd asked me to braid her hair in the style that Katniss had popularized during her time in the arena, a braid that starts on one side of the head, then wraps around to rest on the opposite shoulder. Of course I'd obliged, I had no reason to deny Prim anything she could ask for. I even weaved in a couple of silky ribbons to match her pretty blue eyes. Getting closer to Prim was just another lovely side effect of my self-insertion into Katniss' old life. The more of me she sees in the people she loves, the better.

I was brought back to the moment at hand by the metallic screech of microphone feedback, as the same brightly colored woman who took Katniss and Peeta to the Capitol stood beside them now. "Let's give a big round of applause for our two beautiful victors, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!" she shrieked, waving her arms around in manic excitement. The crowd exploded with shouts and whistles, people calling the names of the victors in sing-song voices. And then the moment I'd been waiting for came.

"Let's have a kiss, Katniss!" bellowed a man standing near the front of the platform. Soon his request was echoed by everyone around him, until it had grown into a full-blown chant. "Kiss, kiss, kiss," shouted the crowd. Peeta smiled, turning his head towards his "lover" and preparing to give her a crowd-appeasing kiss. Katniss' expression was to die for. Her smile was forced, her lips stretched thin against her teeth, and her eyes looked as if they'd pop out of her head at any moment. But I knew what she had to do, and so did she. She leaned forward, painfully slowly, and kissed Peeta, clamping her eyes shut before making contact with him. Probably knowing how apprehensive she would be, he softened the blow by holding the kiss, caressing her face with his free hand. The audience relaxed into a sea of oohs and aws, everyone seemingly content and convinced of the new couple's love for each other, and pacified for the moment. And as Katniss pulled away from her beau, she seemed more relaxed too. As if this was the last time she'd have to put on a show of affection in front of a crowd. But her moment of clarity only lasted for a moment. Because that was when she looked down and saw me standing with her mother and sister, holding hands with her Gale.

After I'd taken a moment to appreciate the shell-shocked look on the Girl on Fire's face, I relived the entire ordeal in my head. As the pair of victors leaned in for the kiss, I felt even more elated than I thought I would. Everything tension-filled moment like this only sweetened the deal for me: seeing how awkward Katniss was up there on the stage, feeling Gale absolutely seething beside me. Even I had to look away from the kiss, though, and instead I looked up at Gale. His grey eyes were as wide as I'd ever seen them, and his mouth opened ever so slightly in surprise. His eyes then immediately narrowed, and his jaw bulged as he clamped his mouth shut. Then he looked down at me briefly. His eyes softened, but he remained impossible to read, as I would come to find out would often be the case. Then he turned away, facing Katniss and Peeta again, who were still kissing, much to his dissatisfaction. He grabbed my hand roughly and held it fast to his side. I let him. I admired Gale's strength and power; it made him even more attractive than he was before. I practically felt his energy and his rage flowing from his body, down his arm, through his palm into me. I was addicted to the power I felt in him, the power I felt while with him. And I was certainly addicted to the shock that was plastered onto Katniss's face as she saw us.

Her cherry lips formed a small O as she realized who was standing with her family. A few things were obvious at first glance. Her mother was still too flighty to groom Prim regularly, and Prim hadn't yet perfected the art of braiding her own hair, so only one person could have fashioned her hair in a perfect swooping braid, complete with ribbons weaved in. I'd even made sure to smooth the collar of Prim's dress with my free hand, to let Katniss know that I knew she'd realized it was me. That was when she noticed that I only used one hand to fix Prim's collar. Her gaze travelled from my left hand resting on her sister's shoulder to my face, then down the opposite side of my body, stopping to rest on my hand clasped with Gale's. Then her eyes snapped up to Gale's face. I looked up at him too, eager to see whether his face was still in the stone cold expression it was in earlier. It was. I smiled, lightly squeezing his hand. His eyes still stared through Katniss, but he returned the squeeze, then turned to walk away, pulling me with him. As my hand left Prim's shoulder, she turned around in protest, but I shook my head and smiled again.

"We'll meet you at the house, sweetie. Take care of your mom, okay?" I turned to walk with Gale, not waiting for an answer from Prim. But before I left, I took one last look at the crowd, at Katniss, and at everything else in the square. I wanted to remember this moment forever. The moment I bested Katniss Everdeen. The last thing I saw before walking away was her face. This time she didn't have a smug grin, or even her usual look of stony indifference. Her face was still frozen in surprise, but there was one change. A single tear slid down her face, dragging with it a line of coal-black mascara down her cheek. I won.

Although I admired Gale's brute strength and determination before, his strength scared me in the moments after we left the square. We started off walking, but soon he was practically dragging me down the dirt path from town to his house. There was no point in trying to reason with him, though. If I knew Gale like I thought I did, he would be driven by pure anger for the moment, and afterwards he'd let me get closer, revealing the gentler side of what he was feeling. And of course, I was right. As we reached the tiny house, he yanked open the door, threw me inside, then slammed the door behind him. I had seen him angry before, but never like this. I fell stomach first into the kitchen table as he threw me inside, and I could feel the air leaving my body as I collided with the solid oak. But, figuring this fit of rage was not yet over, I quickly scrambled beneath it to take cover until he calmed down. I pulled my knees into my chest, waiting patiently for this storm to pass. I listened as Gale moved into the family room, knocking down pictures that hung on the thin walls, then finally shattering his mother's clay flower vase against the wall directly to my left. He must have thrown it into the kitchen from the family room. One choked sigh was followed by a thud, and I crawled out from underneath the table in time to see him leaning against the now bare wall, slowly sliding down it. I breathed a sigh of relief, then began collecting the shards of the vase in my skirt. By this point Gale was sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, mumbling softly to himself.

"I'll make Hazelle a new vase tomorrow. She doesn't have to know," I said, glancing up to see if he'd noticed. He raised his head, looked at me for a moment, then nodded. His face was red, with a fine sheen of sweat covering his forehead. He looked as if he was going to cry, but I knew he wasn't. In all the years I'd known him, Gale had never cried, at least not in front of anyone.

"Do you want a cup of tea?" I said gently, still waiting for a verbal answer. But I didn't get one, just another weak nod before he bent his head down again. This was going to be much harder than I thought. This probably wouldn't be the only time he would explode because of Katniss, and it would be hard to get him to talk and to turn to me, especially when he knows how I feel about her. But I was ready for the challenge. I knew I couldn't get him to open up just yet, but after a few months of gentle prying, I could finally be able to hold his armored shell open just enough to let myself in. After cleaning up the pieces of jagged clay, I put Hazelle's old kettle on the stove, then went outside to get rid of the evidence. I used the biggest shard to dig a small hole in the ground, then filled the hole with the remaining pieces. I still remember making this vase for Mrs. Hawthorne. I had to wait for weeks until the ground was soft enough to dig for clay, and I traded a medicinal mortar and pestle I'd made earlier for pigment, so I could paint little flowers on the vase once it dried. The blue and purple flowers still covered the broken pieces of clay, seemingly winking up at me as I planted them back into the ground where they came from. I took one small shard, one that was small enough to hold only one flower, and pressed it into the dirt after smoothing over the vase's grave.

After allowing myself a couple of moments to grieve over my handiwork, I stood to pick leaves from the bush that grew adjacent to Hazelle's herb garden, one that I'd tended many times in the past. Upon entering the house again, I saw that Gale had found the strength to sit in a chair at the table, but still held his head in his hands. There was no telling how long he'd be like this. All I could do was wait. No way of knowing how long I'd have to wait, but it would be worth it. To continually hurt Katniss. I sighed again, placing the tea leaves on the counter and searching in the bare cupboards for a mug. I found another of my masterpieces: a rounded mug, large enough to hold a cup or two of soup, again adorned with tiny blue and lavender flowers. I placed the leaves in the bottom of the mug, being sure to turn them with my thumb to add more flavor to the tea. I poured the hot water into the mug, then began to walk it carefully over to Gale, who now sat up with his hands in his lap, like an obedient child waiting for instruction. I placed the mug in his hands, lingering when his skin touched mine. I had to do something, something to make it clear to him that I was interested in more than just taking care of him and nursing him through his addiction to Katniss. So I leaned towards him, kissed his forehead, and left, closing the door behind me. I had a lot of work in front of me.


	4. Chapter 3

On the walk back to the Everdeen's old house, I had a few things to figure out. Since getting to Gale was going to take more time than I'd anticipated, I needed a set plan of action. If I made one false step, he'd be right back in Katniss's arms, and I'd have wasted months just to lose to him again. By now she must have known it was pure war. We'd always had our differences before, but I don't know that she ever thought of me as a definite enemy, not until now. I stopped to look for flowers to present to Mrs. Everdeen upon entering the house; one simply didn't show up to the house of a victor empty-handed. I smiled to myself as I searched for the perfect bouquet, remembering the look on her face when she saw me standing there with Gale. And that was just holding hands. Imagine what a kiss could do. She'd be absolutely destroyed. My plan continued forming in my mind as I neared the house, clasping two dozen orange wildflowers. Music was audible from the street where I stood, adjusting my hair and skirt before going to knock on the door. I'd barely landed one knock before the door swung open, bringing bursts of bright yellow light and the smell of freshly baked bread.

"Come in, come in!" urged Peeta, ushering me in. "Can I take your coat?"

"Oh no," I said, pushing him away. "You're a victor now, not the boy from school. I can hang up my own coat." He looked disappointed, almost wounded. Now I saw what Gale pointed out about him from the beginning. He was so easily hurt, so weak. He and Katniss deserved each other. "Can you get me a vase of water? I wanted to give these flowers to Mrs. Everdeen."

He smiled, taking the orange flowers from me, and I heaved an almost audible sigh. I needed to be more careful. Destroying Katniss was only possible if I played nice with everyone in her life, not just the people I liked the most. But I felt something as our hands touched. I saw a flash of the boy I used to know. The baker's boy, who'd sneak warm rolls out of the kitchen for me, help me with my history homework, walk me home on warm spring days. Before I could talk myself out of it, I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him close to me. He smelled familiar. After coming back from the Capitol, most people are so polished and perfumed that it becomes hard to tell who they are and who they used to be. But not Peeta. He still smelled like the pine cones we used to collect as children, like the warm cinnamon rolls we'd steal from the cooling racks. As I pulled back to look at him more closely, I discovered that he didn't look very different either. His short blond hair was combed a little differently, but his blue eyes shone through just as vibrantly as they always had. I knew this boy. This was someone I grew up with. And the fact that he's connected to Katniss shouldn't deter me from reconnecting with someone from my past, even if he was a victor now.

"I'm glad you're home. I mean I'm glad nothing happened to you in that arena because if you hadn't have come home I…" I trailed off, searching for the right words to say, but finding only the resolve to repeat myself. "I'm glad you're home."

"I'm glad I'm home too, Swann," Peeta said softly. He looked at me as if he was making up his mind about something, but anything he was thinking of saying would have to wait.

"Peeta!" called a female voice from another room.

He looked suddenly panicked, as if he'd been caught doing something he wasn't allowed to do. "I gotta go," he said, giving my shoulder one final squeeze before disappearing into the mass of people that crowded Katniss's small house.

That was one thing I loved about Peeta. He always used my name in conversation, and it sounded like music coming from his lips. I smiled despite the situation, allowing myself a moment to touch my shoulder where his hand rested. I glanced up to see if I'd be able to track him through the crowd, to see if he'd looked back for me, but my eyes didn't meet Peeta's beautiful blue ones. They met eyes that were frigid and coal grey. Katniss stood in the middle of the room staring at me, seemingly unphased by the people swirling around her. My smile faded as my eyes locked with hers, then glanced down to my hand. I was still gripping the fabric that Peeta had touched. I quickly released the sleeve of my shirt and smoothed it over, but it was too late. She already saw me, cherishing someone else who was important to her. I don't know why I hesitated. This was what I wanted, wasn't it? To see Katniss upset over me being with the people she loved? Somehow it didn't feel as sweet as I thought it would. Sure, I loved seeing the shocked look on her face when I stood in the square with Gale, but this was different. She was surprised, even angry when she saw me and Gale. But now she looked hurt. I looked back up at her, just in time to see her pushing past the people that crowded her house and making her way towards me.

"Swann!" shouted a tiny voice. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground with a very energetic four year old on my back. "Where's Gale?"

"Hi sweetheart." I straightened up slowly, holding Posy Hawthorne's legs as I stood. I could barely breathe with her arms around my neck, so I swung her around to rest on my hip. "Gale is still at home, he's not feeling well." Her little forehead wrinkled and her tiny pink lips began to pout. "He's just sleepy, baby. He's taking a nap," I said, trying to backpedal before she got upset. "Is your mom here?"

Her face brightened as she broke out into a sunny, snaggletoothed smile. "She's in the back room with Vick and Rory," she replied, squirming out of my arms and leading me towards the living room. She led me through the mass of people in the house, pulling me past Katniss, who turned to walk behind us. I walked into the room to see Hazelle sitting on the couch and holding hands with Mrs. Everdeen, with her children seated behind her like baby ducks following their mother. Both women looked up to see me and smiled, and Rory and Vick sprung from the couch to hug me.

"Why are you so excited to see me? You hooligans should be hugging Katniss, she's the star of this party!" I said after releasing them. They bounded over to Katniss, who was only a few steps behind me, and peppered her with kisses. I could hear exclamations of "we missed you Kat" and "welcome back, Katniss" as all three Hawthorne children embraced her. That would keep her away from me for a few more moments.

I walked over to the couch, greeting Mrs. Hawthorne and Mrs. Everdeen as I knelt in front of them. I told them that Gale was at home and wasn't feeling well, then thanked Mrs. Everdeen for inviting me to Katniss and Peeta's welcome back party.

"Oh, it's nothing," she said, patting my hand. "Hazelle, you couldn't believe how much of a help Swann was to us while Katniss was away. Really she's been helping out since before that. With Katniss always out hunting, she really made an effort to spend time with Prim."

"I can believe it. She's been helping me out with the kids for a while now. Since the accident." Hazelle looked at me wistfully. "She's like a daughter to me."

I smiled back, standing and beginning to walk away. "I should be thanking you two. I wouldn't be doing so well if you hadn't helped me when my mother was...ill." I looked at both of them, remembering the way they stepped in after the mining accident. Every moment like this made it harder to hurt Katniss. Because hurting her meant possibly hurting everyone connected to her, which were people also connected to me. "I'd better get home to my mother, but thank you again. Both of you." I turned to leave. I had a lot of thinking to do.

I barely made it to the sidewalk before I heard the door behind me open and close again. "Just what do you think you're doing, huh?" Katniss. I should've known this moment would come sooner or later. I couldn't avoid her forever, especially with all the effort I was making to spend time with Prim and Gale.

"I don't know what you mean," I replied as icily as I could. "I've done nothing but help you and your family since you left for the Games."

"Cut the shit," she spat. She was less than three feet away from me now. She stopped, never breaking eye contact. Her expression was impossible to read. "We both know you're lying, so just cut the bullshit and be straight with me. What do you want from me? Why are you doing all of this?"

I took a deep breath before I answered, taking a moment to remember all the times this situation had been reversed. When I'd reached out to her for help, or for an explanation, and all she'd done was shun me and shut me out. She deceived me and threw me out into the cold. So I'd do the same to her. Her family and friends were blameless, but she deserved no mercy. "Listen, Katniss. I know it must be hard for you to trust anyone since you came out of that arena, where everyone and everything besides your boyfriend was trying to kill you. But I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm only trying to help, and you have to believe that. You have to believe me." I looked at her with what I hoped looked like desperation in my eyes. To effectively hurt her, she had to truly believe that I was only trying to help, and that everything I do out of malice was all in her head. "Do you trust me?"

"I do," she said after a moment, then turned around to walk back to her house, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. Thanks for the flowers."

On the walk back home, I picked some more flowers for my mother. She'd apparently helped Mrs. Everdeen set up the welcome home party, but went home before it started. Probably to cook dinner for me. I had to remember throughout all of this, whatever I did affected her too. I ran the rest of the way home, relishing the warmth of the August air as it rushed past my skin. My mother always got restless whenever I was late.

"Hi mom," I shouted as I came in, immediately grabbing a vase to put the flowers in. I had picked purple wildflowers this time; purple was her favorite color.

"Hi sweetheart. Dinner's on the stove," I heard her call from upstairs. I grabbed a bowl from the cupboard, filled it with soup, then bounded upstairs to see my mother sitting in bed, embroidering a throw pillow with tiny suns. "Tell me, would Peeta prefer red suns or blue suns?" she asked, placing the pillow on her lap.

"Orange. He likes orange," I replied quickly. A little too quickly. I could feel myself blushing as I thought about his face earlier that night, the way he smiled when he took that handful of orange flowers from my hands. I hated myself for being so weak and girlish in front of my mother. She loved to make a fuss over any boy I'd ever told her about. "Katniss told me."

She laughed knowingly, nudging me softly. "For I second there I thought you were gonna say something else. You better watch out, Swann, Katniss is a fierce one. I hope you don't have any plans to steal her man." She seemed to be enjoying herself tremendously, but after seeing how uncomfortable I was, she left it alone. Besides, she knew how I felt about Katniss.

I spent another thirty minutes sitting on the bed with her, sipping my soup and telling her all about how fabulous the party was. After kissing her goodnight, I walked to my bedroom and began to undress, then laid out my outfit for the next day. Ordinarily I'd just wear my school uniform on a Monday, but school didn't start for another couple of weeks. Tomorrow I had some visits to make. And I had to look my best..


	5. Chapter 4

I woke up the next morning filled with determination and a new sense of self. I even woke before my mother did, so started getting ready. I washed my face and my hair, then walked back to my room to get dressed for the day. The night before, I had laid out a soft gray button down and a burgundy jumper. It was my favorite shirt, because it belonged to my father. It was worn at the elbows and frayed at the hem, but it was so comfortable. I wore it around the house right after the accident, but as I got older, my mother taught me how to sew, so I took in the sides and replaced the old buttons until it fit me like it was my own. After buttoning up the shirt, zipping up the jumper, and slipping on my worn black boots, I went downstairs and started making breakfast: hotcakes, fried apples, and tea. Before I knew it, my mother was shuffling down the stairs in her old, threadbare bathrobe.

"Swann? Honey, what are you doing up this early?" she asked groggily. I wasn't a morning riser at all; I usually took every opportunity I could to sleep in. But today was different. I had a number of visits to make, people to acquaint myself with in order to get back on Katniss's good side.

"I woke up early and I couldn't go back to sleep, so I figured I'd make breakfast." I grabbed a spatula from the counter and carefully placed the hotcakes in the frying pan onto a plate, then put the remaining ones on another plate that rested in a woven basket. After putting the plate and a cup of tea in front of my mother, who now sat at the kitchen table yawning, I walked back to the stove to grab a wooden spoon and the pot of warm apple slices. I doled out a couple of scoops to my mother, then returned to packing the basket. I placed a few more items into the basket before covering it with a dish towel. The leftover raw apple slices, a small jar of strawberry jam, a quart of milk, and two mugs. When my mother glanced up again to see that I hadn't made a plate for myself, she gave me a confused look. "I'm going on a picnic," I said by way of explanation.

"Mmhmm. And exactly who are you going on this picnic with?"

I rolled my eyes dramatically, looping my arm through the handle of the basket and smoothing my hair down. "If you must know, I'm going on a picnic with Madge, the mayor's daughter. School isn't in yet, and we have nothing better to do."

My mother nodded, seemingly content with my response. "Well alright. Have fun then. Be back by lunchtime, if you can."

I nodded back, kissing her on the forehead before leaving. When I reached the corner, I turned left, away from the town square where Madge's house stood and towards Victor's Village, a small, lonely neighborhood where all former victors lived. Before Peeta and Katniss came home, only one victor from 12 actually lived there. And his name was Haymitch Abernathy.

I never imagined a drunk would be so impossible to wake. I assumed he was a drunk, that is. His house was littered with empty glass bottles of every shape and size, and the air was stale and rank. After five minutes of shaking, kicking, and yelling at Haymitch's lifeless form, I gave up, and instead occupied myself with cleaning. I opened windows, collected the bottles in a burlap sack, and swept up before placing a kettle of water on the stove. But even the brisk autumn air couldn't wake Haymitch. So I left the plate of hotcakes and the quart of milk on the table where he slept, disappointed that my plan was postponed due to his drunkenness. I'd probably have to come back in the dead of the night, when he'd surely be drunk, but awake. Which meant I'd have to sneak out of the house to walk across town at midnight. But if I wanted to get close to the Girl on Fire, I had to pick my battles and suck it up. Haymitch was the least of my problems at this point. As I left his house, careful to close the door quietly behind me, I was greeted by another one of Katniss's now many friends.

"Hey, Swann! What are you up to so early in the morning?" Peeta chirped, strolling over to the steps that led to Haymitch's front door.

"Nothing!" I replied, hopefully sounding just as energetic as he did. "Just dropping off a gift from my mother. Haymitch and my father were friends, before…you know," I said, letting the sentence trail off as gently as I could.

He bowed his head, nodding gravely, as if he completely understood and believed the lie I just told him. "Well, since you're in the neighborhood, do you want some breakfast? I just visited the bakery." I guess I waited too long to respond, because Peeta pushed on before I could answer. "I'll put a kettle on and breakfast will be ready in five minutes. Just gotta find the damn thing…" he said, scratching his head.

"I don't know, I don't want to cause you any inconvenience," I said quietly. He didn't hear me.

"They just delivered my last few boxes," he continued, turning to walk across the way to his house. I guess he made the decision for me. "I can't find anything yet."

I smiled and nodded. "I'll tell you what. You look for the kettle and I'll finish breakfast. You have eggs and milk, I'm guessing."

He returned the smile. "Yep. I have everything I need now."

Even though he fought me on it at first, Peeta sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea while I scrambled eggs and made French toast out of the bread he'd brought from the bakery. I even had cinnamon and sugar and butter to fry the bread in, luxuries I hadn't tasted in years.

"When did you get so good at cooking?" Peeta asked later, after I finished cooking and poured strong coffee for both of us. Of course, I could barely understand what he was saying, as his mouth was stuffed with apple-berry marmalade and French toast.

"I didn't really have a choice. After my father died my mother kind of shut down, so I had to do everything. Anyway, there's no way I cook better than those Capitol people. We all saw the delicious looking things you two got to eat on the train."

"You two?" He looked up at me quizzically, a dab of marmalade resting in the corner of his mouth.

"You and Katniss. Aren't you two a "you two" now?"

Peeta chuckled and reached for another slice of French toast. "We are, I guess. You have to understand that with Katniss, everyday is an adventure." He laughed again. "It can be a little hard to read her and to get her to open up, but we're working on it."  
I nodded, and started to reach for another slice of my own, but decided against it. "She isn't exactly warm and cuddly, if that's what you're getting at. Still, it must be nice to be part of a two." I buried my face in my coffee cup, then carefully glanced up to see if Peeta had taken the bait.

He had. "What do you mean, 'part of a two'? What about you and that boy Whytt Ivory, the boy we used to go to school with? Whatever happened between you two?"

Now it was my turn to laugh. "Nothing ever happened between us. He was only nice to me because our mothers got together and decided that we should get together. He never really liked me." I shrugged, taking another sip of coffee. "I haven't found my copilot just yet."

"You'll find someone, Swann. I know it," said Peeta, with great finality. He stood up to clear our dishes. I let him. I couldn't keep him from doing what he was used to doing. Unlike most of the boys in District 12, he had wonderful manners. There was just something about him that was always sunny, always willing to help. I can't imagine why Katniss would want anything to do with him. I'm sure he throws off her cloudy demeanor. Peeta continued clearing dishes as I sat and sipped my coffee. I felt myself thinking more and more about him. I thought about Gale. And I thought about Katniss. It would take months to break through Gale's shell, to get him to talk to me or even look me in the eyes. He was so flighty, so unwilling to let anyone in. And within twenty-four hours of coming home, here I was sitting in Peeta's kitchen sipping coffee and making conversation. But I understood why Gale was so reclusive. For years I was the same way. I couldn't deal with my father's death, so I shut out everyone. My own mother, my friends, my teachers. I isolated myself from anyone who I thought could hurt me, which was why Katniss's betrayal affected me so much. Reaching out to her that day was the last time I let myself be vulnerable before I shut down. And now that she was in the public eye, she was unguarded and open. I just needed some more time to get closer to Peeta and Gale and to figure out which one would hurt her more.

"I'd better get going. My mother is expecting me to be home before lunch," I said, draining my coffee and handing the cup to Peeta.

"I haven't washed your dishes yet. Don't you want your basket back?"

I shook my head. "I can come back to get it whenever. I know I won't be able to talk you out of washing those dishes," I replied, laughing.

"Then let me walk you home." I looked at him for a moment. He looked at me steadily, unwavering. There was no malice in his bright blue eyes. If he had any kind of ulterior motive, he hid it well. All I saw when I looked at Peeta was innocence. And pure affection.

"Alright," I responded softly. He beamed and strode towards the door. He opened it grandly, keeping one hand on the doorknob and extending the other toward me. I started recalculating instantly, thinking about how this would affect my plan's progress, but then I stopped myself. This was not the time to overthink and overplan. This was the time to appreciate my current situation, and breathe in this beautiful autumn moment. I was about to go on a wonderful walk with the baker's boy Peeta Mellark.


	6. Chapter 5

One of the only things I appreciate about District 12 is the weather. The winters can be rough, and the summers unbearable, but spring and fall are both perfect in every way. Just the perfect balance of brisk breezes and mixing colors, which makes taking a late morning walk akin to meditation. Or as close as one can get to meditation in the middle of the coal district.

"You alright?"

My eyes shot open. I almost forgot I wasn't walking by myself. I always closed my eyes while walking through the neighborhoods of 12. I knew so many back ways and sheltered paths that were much more tranquil than the main road that stretched from Victor's Village to the town square and beyond. "Sorry," I shrugged, keeping my arms wrapped around myself. "I know I have a couple of weird habits."

Peeta laughed. "Not weird, just different." He looked down at my arms with a slight frown. "Are you cold? We can go back and get a jacket if you want."

I shook my head. "I'm fine, thanks. We're halfway there anyway. Thanks for walking me home." I could feel myself blushing. I felt stupid and vulnerable.

"No problem," he replied. "It's actually kind of nice. I haven't really had a chance to relax since we got home from the Games. It's been so hectic, what with the moving, the interviews, my parents, the sleepless nights, Katniss's mood swings-" He stopped short, both literally and verbally. I turned around to see him standing there in the middle of the path, looking up at me as if he'd just been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. He held my gaze for a moment, then looked away towards the Village. "I'm sorry, Swann. I shouldn't have said that."

I strode towards him. "Peeta, listen. You don't ever have to apologize to me for speaking your mind. You have to have someone to talk to, about everything. Because if you don't, it'll eat you alive. Trust me. I know." I extended my hand towards him. He looked at it confusedly. "Now, let's have that walk."

He nodded for a moment, then took my hand and continued walking with me. "I mean, I am sorry for unloading all of that on you, but it's a two-fold apology. I know you and Katniss aren't the best of friends."

"I've turned over a new leaf with Katniss," I said, shaking my head. "I have no anger left in my heart when it comes to her. It honestly would've killed me, to hold on to all that angst and aggression." I'm halfway telling the truth. All that pent-up anger is killing me. And I have turned over a new leaf with her, just not necessarily a benevolent leaf.

We walked the rest of the way in silence. Chosen silence with Peeta was different than the forced silence that came with Gale. With Gale, I felt like silence was sometimes the only option. He could be so volatile and angry, one wrong word would send him into a closed-off spiral of anger that no one could penetrate. Not his family, not me, not even Katniss. He usually went hunting when he got like that. Better to let him take his aggression out on the animals than on us. But with Peeta it was different. I could feel his body losing tension as the silence set in and the sounds of nature swirled around us. With him, I was serene and peaceful. It wasn't like there was nothing to say, it was just that nothing had to be said. The silence wasn't awkward or unwanted. It was welcome. My mother was weeding in front of our house when Peeta and I arrived. She jumped as she heard the gate slam shut, but continued to garden.

"I sure hope you brought back my basket, I need to gather up all these weeds and I'd rather not use a bowl from the kitchen-" She stopped short as she finally looked up to see Peeta and me standing just inside the gate. I was smart enough to drop his hand when she started talking, but we still stood in close proximity to one another. A bit too close, I'm sure. "Well, I didn't know you'd be bringing a friend home for lunch."

"Hello, Mrs. Lockhearst," said Peeta cordially, extending his hand towards my mother to help her up. She dusted her hands on her dirt-stained apron, then stood up on her own and shook Peeta's waiting hand. "I hope it isn't a problem that I came with Swann. I have nothing constructive to do, and I figured she might not want to walk alone back to the house."

My mother snorted. "Swann has no trouble with walking alone. Did you two run into each other in the square? Were you there on the picnic with Madge?"

Peeta shook his head confusedly, glancing at me for a moment. "No, she was in Victor's Village when I was just getting home from the square. I'm surprised I didn't see her there." My face burned. I hated being talked about like that while I was present, like a teacher and a parent discussing a child right in front of them.

"I was there earlier than you. Madge wasn't home, so I walked to the Village to see if the Everdeens were home, but they haven't moved from their old house yet. That's just about when I ran into Peeta." I glanced over to him quickly to see if he'd corroborate my story. He nodded curtly, as if he actually believed what I'd just said. Maybe he did. If he thought my mother knew I was visiting Haymitch, I wouldn't have had to include that in my morning report. I brushed past my mother as I headed into the house, leaving Peeta behind me. "You stay out here and garden, Mom. I'll start lunch."

I stormed up to my room, more frustrated than ever. I never should've let Peeta walk me home. It only opened the door to my mother interrogating us over lunch. She was already suspicious of my intentions of befriending him, so I admit I wasn't really helping my case. I changed from my burgundy skirt into worn black pants, leaving on my father's grey shirt. I might need to change back into it later, but there was no point in wearing it now that I was home. My work with Peeta was essentially done for the day. I heard him and my mother chattering away downstairs, so I could only assume they ignored my suggestion and decided to cook lunch themselves. Good. Let them. I wasn't hungry anyway.

"Swann!" I heard my mother shrilly screaming from the kitchen. I ignored her, walked over to my bed and sat down on the edge. I began to unlace my shoes and remove my socks. "Swann!" she shouted again. I tied my hair back with a ribbon and pulled back the covers on my bed, sliding my legs across until they were half-covered with quilt. "Swann Lockhearst, I know you hear me!" The last shout was quickly followed by the sound of shoes pounding up stairs. I flipped over as quickly as I could, turning my face towards the wall and pulling the covers up to my chin. The footsteps got louder. That was odd, they sounded even louder than usual. She must've been pretty angry this time. I heard a click as my doorknob was turned and the door swung open, groaning and creaking loudly on its hinges.

"Swann?" a gentler voiced said. "Are you alright?"

I'm glad my face was turned towards the wall, because I'm sure I rolled my eyes more exaggeratedly than I ever had before. Of course it was Peeta. He'd probably told my mother not to worry to get her to calm down. I frowned. This was not the way I had expected any of this to go. My plan was to get closer to Gale romantically, and get closer to Prim and Peeta platonically. But he was making it awfully hard to stick to the plan.

"Go downstairs Peeta, I'm not decent. Tell my mother I feel sick." I rattled out a few phony coughs to really seal the deal.

Although I couldn't see him, I'm sure Peeta nodded the same unknowing nod he always did when I lied to him and he believed it. "Will do." I heard his feet shuffle towards the door, then pause. "I really did enjoy breakfast, Swann. And our walk. It's really nice having someone to talk to."

I coughed again. "You have Katniss now," I said, gripping the covers even tighter around me. I waited until I heard him leave the room, close the door behind him, and thunder back down the stairs before flopping over onto my back. I have been so stupid. Of course Peeta loves Katniss. Ever since his first interview in the Capitol, it's been unclear how Katniss felt about him, but he loved her from the start. Maybe even when they were still home. So why was his kindness bothering me so much now? Bonding romantically with Gale was my best option. The only person who would really oppose it was Katniss. So why was I second-guessing myself and taking autumn walks with Peeta when I should be out hunting with Gale? I groaned and rolled back over to face the wall. This was all getting to be too much. And there was no way I could destroy Katniss if I was this disorganized. Forget executing a plan. I needed to stick to one first. I pulled the covers back over my shoulders and buried my head in my pillow. The last thing I remember before drifting off was the faint 'thank you' Peeta must have said to my mother as he was leaving.


	7. Chapter 6

I woke up to a sharp, rhythmic clicking sound. Probably a woodpecker destroying my old house or some summer bug tapping out its last tune before the frost hit. I rolled over grumpily. It was late afternoon by now, and the pale orange light filtering through my blinds instantly made me think of Peeta. I groaned again, remembering the events of that morning. Having breakfast together, walking home together, embracing more than once. I cringed as I remembered the awkward aftermath with my mother. The tapping continued. The taps seemed more deliberate than I'd realized before. The window. Someone was throwing pebbles at my window. I sat up, running my hands through my now tangled hair. The tapping increased in frequency now. Wrapping my blanket around my shoulders and my head, I made my way to the window, yanking up the blinds. The eyes that met mine were familiar and grey, but warm. I pounded down the stairs and threw open the front door to see Gale Hawthorne standing in front of me, messenger bag slung over his shoulder, one hand still full of tiny clay pebbles.

He leaned forward tentatively, cocking his head to the side as he glanced behind me into the house. "Can I come in?" I nodded. He dropped the pebbles and wiped his hands against his pants before stepping into the house, then patiently waited as I closed the door behind him. I face the closed door, not wanting to face him yet. The last time I saw him, he was so full of anger and energy he could barely communicate. Only a day had passed since the confrontation in the square, but it felt like a year.

"I'll put a kettle on," I said, brushing past him and refusing to meet his gaze. I searched the cupboard for two mugs, but found none, so I decided to wash the dishes that were piled on the counter in front of me. Behind me, I could hear Gale clumsily shuffling around. For what, I didn't know. As I started running water into the sink, I felt Gale's presence behind me. I sighed and bowed my head. This shouldn't be so difficult. I'd known Gale since before I could remember. Our fathers were good friends, and we'd spent countless summers playing together before the mining accident. So why was it so hard to let him back in now? Gale stood behind me unwavering. I turned off the knob and swiveled around to meet his gaze, and found myself inches away from his chest. I heard two ceramic clinks on the counter behind me, then watched Gale walk away from me and sit at the head of the table. He looked at me steadily. His expression was impossible to read. I swiveled back around to see two lumpy, brown mugs sitting on the kitchen counter. They were clearly crafted by hand, clearly by someone who had no idea how to make a mug from clay. But there they sat, each adorned with a twisting, crooked handle and lamely dotted with yellow flowers.

This was Gale's way of apologizing. Not by saying it out loud, like most people do. For someone so selective with his words, actions meant far more than any spoken apology ever would. Beyond the act of giving the mugs to me, another act of apology and vulnerability was presented. The fact that he didn't give me something he could master, like perfectly cut venison or a bow and quiver. He made something messy and flawed. I knew I'd cry if I didn't say something soon, so I grabbed the cups and walked towards the counter.

"Is it alright if we just have cider? I don't really feel like waiting for a kettle to boil." He nodded, then grabbed a knife and a handful of pecans from his bag and began cracking them open. For the next half hour, Gale and I sat at my kitchen table, eating pecans, drinking cider, and chatting about the past, all without mentioning the night before. We quickly fell into easy conversation, just like the old days. For a moment I forgot about my mother worrying, and my breakfast with Peeta, and my grand plan to wreak havoc on Katniss. I was just with Gale.

It was easy to forget how nice conversation with him was. After spending the morning and the previous evening talking with Peeta, I'd already gotten used to the easy way he spoke. Every word was natural and smooth; nothing he said ever sounded labored. Peeta always seemed to know just the right thing to say, but since conversation flowed so easily, it began to lose its value. I'd forgotten to appreciate Gale's deliberate speech. He never said things just to say them, or just to fill the empty air. He was purposeful with every word, calculating what the best thing to say would be. Peeta could sway a crowd or hold a delightful conversation over dinner, but Gale could make you believe that what he said was important. He spoke the kind of thoughtfully worded sentences that you'd think to yourself in the middle of the night, knowing that the person who said them was more than just a loudspeaker, knowing that they truly believed in what they said.

Gale laughed. "How long were you stumbling around in the woods before I came?"

"Probably an hour. You know how terrible my sense of direction was back then, before you taught me how to read the moss and feel the wind and all that nature crap," I answered, drinking the last gulp of cider in my cup.

He slammed his hand down on the table, nearly knocking over his mug and the open bottle of cider. "What do you mean, 'all that nature crap'? That nature crap has saved your life, more than once." I nodded with mock seriousness, clasping my hands together as I tried to keep a straight face. I took one look at Gale's furrowed eyebrows and dissolved into laughter. It only took a few moments of me laughing for Gale to get offended. "Hey! What's so funny, huh?" This demand sent another wave of laughter through me, and I hardly noticed I had fallen onto the floor until I realized I was no longer across from him, but looking up at him.

Gale finally smiled, then chuckled as he inspected the nearly empty cider bottle that rested on the table. "This cider's hard. You can't have any more," he said, putting the glass to his lips to finish the drink.

"No!" I shouted, scrambling to my feet to try to stop him. I reached out, wildly swinging my arms in a lame attempt to knock the cider out of his hands. He simply held out one strong arm in my direction, effectively holding me back until there was nothing but apple-scented air left in the bottle. When he finished, he clanked the brown glass onto the tabletop with great finality and relaxed his arm, which caused me to tumble forward into his lap. This was also hilarious to me, and I giggled again, wrapping my arms around Gale's neck and collapsing into his shoulder. I inhaled deeply and relaxed even more. I felt at home, here with Gale in my kitchen. My arms felt so comfortable around him, my legs bent and intertwining with his. He smelled familiar, like pine needles and coal dust and sweat. After a moment of tension he relaxed too, wrapping his arms around me and nuzzling the top of my head.

I hadn't allowed myself to be so small and vulnerable in months, maybe a year. Ever since Katniss and Peeta were shipped away to the Capitol to die, I'd always been on the defense. Even when I was cozying up to Gale in the town square or connecting with Peeta at breakfast, it was all an act. I'm sure I felt something way deep down, but I kept pushing anything genuine away, kept telling myself that I had a job to do. Did I really feel this way about Gale? Sure, I'd made plans to marry him before, but was it just to spite Katniss, or was there really something there? The heat radiating from Gale and the tingling feeling the cider gave me made it hard not to think in circles. The only thing that made sense was the moment we were sharing now, simply being together in the simplest of ways

We sat there in each other's arms for what felt like forever, but it couldn't have been longer than a few minutes. It was as if we'd entered another plane of reality. Neither of us seemed to care that my mother could walk through the door at any moment, or that Hazelle was probably wondering where her son was by now, or that anyone else in 12 or in all of Panem even existed. I was altogether aware of every place we connected and unable to piece together where I ended and he began. My nails raked through the hair at the nape of his neck, and he ran his fingers absentmindedly along my back. Without warning Gale lifted his mouth from the top of my head, and I raised my head from his chest to protest this unexpected lack of warmth. But before I could say anything, he leaned in towards me and kissed me, fully and very suddenly. Everything I doubted before the kiss was now made strikingly clear: I was Gale's and he was mine. Nothing else made sense except this. He tightened his arms around me, pulling me closer to him as the kiss deepened. Each kiss became increasingly desperate, impatient, full of desire. My head spun with the dueling sensations that seemed to swirl around us; all at once I was fulfilled and left with a crucial need. After a while, the kisses began to slow to their original pace. I could feel something between us ebbing, drawing back to whatever place it hid before today. Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled away from me again and looked down at me. His expression was rife with conflicting emotions. I started to get dizzy watching his stormy grey eyes focusing on me.

Gale smiled again, stroking the side of my face with his thumb. "Swann. You're drunk."

"No I'm not."

He sighed and kissed my forehead. "I should go, it's starting to get late."

"Stay." I hated the amount of desperation I could hear in my voice now. Speaking in such short, choppy sentences, I sounded like a needy child, like someone clingy and unable to function alone.

Gale simply placed his arms around me again, and in one fluid motion he stood up and scooped me up with him. I let him. I had neither the energy nor the ability to argue with him or try to break free. My arms returned to their former position around his shoulders as he carried me up the old wooden stairs, presumably to my bedroom. I could hear Gale saying something, but I couldn't make out the words, so I simply focused on the vibrations his deep voice caused as each word resonated through his chest. As we reached the top of the stairs, Gale gingerly placed me down and nudged me forward with one hand, while keeping his other hand on my hip.

I tottered towards my room reluctantly. I was nowhere near drunk in all honesty, just tired and a little woozy from the cider. But I knew the second I was tucked into bed, Gale would leave. He continued to guide me forward until we reached the door. After a couple of backwards swoons into his waiting arms, I gave up trying to buy time. We'd have other afternoons like this. At least, that's what I hoped. Although the way I felt about him was now crystal clear, everything else around us still swirled with uncertainty.

"Gale," I said as I sat on my bed and began to draw my covers around me. My voice sounded small and feeble. So unlike the girl I'd forced myself to be for so long. "Will you tell me about the first day we met?"

He chuckled and crouched down by my bed, reaching out for my hand. I gladly obliged. I felt myself drifting off to the hypnotic lull of Gale's deep voice, listening to him retell the story of the day we first met as children, which he remembered like it happened yesterday. When he finished, he gently released my hand and walked slowly towards the door before stopping short. He turned on his heel. Smiling, he walked back to the bed, reaching my side in two long strides.

"Goodbye Swann," he said, kissing my forehead. "See you tomorrow."

I watched as Gale walked back towards my bedroom door and closed it behind him, then laid back on my bed to concentrate on the sound of his heavy boots clomping down the stairs and scuffing the kitchen floor on his way back out into the warm autumn afternoon.


	8. Chapter 7

I must've been awake for hours waiting for my mother to fall asleep. After about thirty minutes of solitude, I assumed she was out in the town square or chatting over tea with the Everdeens or Hawthornes, so I made dinner for myself. Tea, toasted bread, and an apple were enough for now. It would be a little difficult to sneak around on a full stomach. I sat in my room and waited until I heard her tired footsteps coming up the stairs, then carefully tiptoed down those same stairs into the kitchen, with my shoes in one hand and a messenger bag in the other. I placed two bottles of wine that I'd been saving into the bag, then stepped outside and put on my shoes. I couldn't enter the house of Haymitch Abernathy empty-handed.

The walk across town was a lonely and nerve-wracking one. Our local Peacekeepers were never known to punish the citizens of 12 for trading in the Hob or any other minor infractions of the law, but walking around after dark was still considered to be fairly criminal. If I got caught I'd not only catch hell from my mother, but I could be fined, imprisoned, or even killed. The thought of it sent shivers through me, and I wrapped my arms around myself in a weak attempt to shield myself from the cold. After walking for about fifteen minutes, I stood on Haymitch's front steps, working up the courage to knock on the door, when I heard the metallic clang of a door being unlocked, and unnatural light beamed from the entrance of the house next door. I dove off of the porch and into a nearby bush just in time for Prim to step out into the night.

"Come here, Buttercup! Come here, baby," she called out, carefully scanning the cobblestone in front of her. I kept my head low enough to stay out of sight, but still peeked through the leaves to watch her and wait for her to leave.

She rattled out a few more calls before Katniss appeared at her shoulder. "He's not out there, little duck." Prim pouted. "Don't worry, he'll come home when he smells breakfast. He always does."

Prim slumped and turned to walk back into the house. "I could've sworn I heard him!" she pleaded, her disappointment blatant.

Katniss shook her head and nudged her sister indoors. "He'll come home. Now stop shouting before you wake Mom or Peeta."

"What about Haymitch?" Prim asked, tilting her small blonde head towards the bush where I hid.

"Oh, he's not asleep," Katniss chuckled, giving Prim a final push before closing the door behind them. But just before I stood up to return to Haymitch's porch, the door swung open again, and I hit the ground so hard my ribs ached. Katniss stepped out onto her porch and even went so far as to walk down the stairs and walk a few steps into the street. She now stood less than a yard away from me, scanning the night with an intensity that Prim had lacked. After a few moments, she spun on her heel and stalked back up the stairs, her last grumble of "stupid cat" punctuated by the slam of the door behind her.

I laid there for another five minutes before I stood up, dusted myself off, and climbed the stairs for what I hoped would be the last time. Katniss finding out about me sneaking around at night would be absolutely catatonic. I heard the clink of a bottle hitting a hardwood floor, so I braced myself and turned the knob.

What hit me first was a wave of heat, swampy and out of place against the cool autumn night. What hit me next was the rankness and the squalor of the house. Broken glass littered several corners of the foyer, and the stale stink of the air was enough to make me choke. I heard Haymitch rustling around in the cabinets presumably for something else to drink, so I took as deep of a breath as I could stomach and made my way towards the kitchen. I stood in the threshold, taking in the sight of the former victor of District 12. His clothes were dirty and ill-fitting, and his hair was lank. He clearly hadn't bathed for days, and it didn't seem to bother him at all.

"Well well well," came a low chuckle. "How did I know you'd be here?"

My mouth dropped open. For someone in a drunken stupor for most of his adult life, Haymitch was still surprisingly perceptive and aware, even if it wasn't immediately clear. He continued rattling on as he turned to face me, a new bottle in hand.

"I didn't think you'd be here so soon, though, girl. I thought maybe you'd give it a coupla days before you came to see me. Even a week. But no, seven days is just too long of a wait, isn't it?"

I turned, walking away from him. I don't know why I thought I could get around the real reason I'd come to him. I had to find out some dirt on Katniss in order for my plan to really work. Just being with Gale wouldn't be enough. Eventually she'd close him out and move on into her life with Peeta. I needed to make her hurt. I needed more. "I'm not here to see you."

Haymitch laughed, the sound of his low, grumbling voice echoing off the dirty walls. "Then why'd you come? I'm sure it wasn't to help me clean up. You haven't got a helpful bone in your body."

"That's not true!" I shouted, whirling around to face him with my finger accusingly outstretched. But before I said anything, I took another moment to look at Haymitch. He still had all the power. No matter how much I yelled and screamed, he'd be the one in control of the conversation. And until I calmed down and learned to play the game, I wasn't going to get anywhere. I relaxed my body as Haymitch looked back at me, a look of pure amusement plastered onto his face.

He took a swig of whatever foul thing was in the bottle and smiled again. "That so, sweetheart?"

"I'm not here to talk about me, or to talk about you. I'm here to talk about Katniss."

Now that got his attention. His eyebrows raised as I lowered myself into a nearby chair. Now I was playing the game. "And why are you here to talk about Katniss?"

I had a couple of choices at this point. Continue to lie to Haymitch and tell him I was here to make amends with her, to patch up years of hatred between us. Adversely, I could tell him my real plan: destroy Katniss's life from the inside out, using those years of hatred as fuel to burn everything in my path. But seeing how easily he disarmed me the first time, lying to him didn't seem to be my best option. And there was no telling whether he'd help me in my quest to break Katniss or if he'd expose my plan before it'd even begun. So, I chose a third option. Partial truth.

"I need to know how she feels about Gale."

This elicited another chuckle from Haymitch. He sat in a chair facing me and looked at me steadily, or as steadily as I suppose someone into their third or fourth bottle could. "And why don't you just ask her yourself?"

I shook my head, turning away from him. "You must know Katniss hates me. She'd never tell me the truth about him, and even if she did, she'd never let me have him." I paused to let my words sink in, then continued. "I mean, she's very territorial when she wants to be."

Haymitch nodded slowly, no doubt remembering the way Katniss risked her life more than once to save Peeta once it was announced that two tributes could come home. "But she's with Peeta now. The Capitol loves them together. 'The star-crossed lovers", they're callin' 'em."

Now it was my turn to laugh. "If you think a girl like Katniss Everdeen is going to do what the Capitol people want her to do, then you're dead wrong."

I regretted saying those words the second they popped out of my mouth. It was impossible to know how Haymitch felt about the Capitol. For all I knew, he could be spying on 12 for Snow himself. For all I knew, the Capitol could be listening in that very moment. I wanted to smack myself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid girl_, I chanted in my head.

My tension must have showed, because Haymitch waved his hand flippantly and took another swig from his bottle. "Don't worry, sweetheart. You don't have to worry about Katniss trying to keep you from your new boyfriend. I'll keep nudging her towards Mellark."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Haymitch." I stood and walked over to him, taking one of his hands in mine. He looked up at me, bleary and dumbfounded. "I really am thankful. You don't know what that boy means to me." I stared at him, through him, trying desperately to convey how much I really cared about Gale. Maybe it was because it was so late, or because I was so eager to have someone on my side. I don't know why I was revealing so much about myself to Haymitch now, when I knew all too well how hurtful he could be. But something in me needed to tell someone about Gale. I couldn't tell any Everdeens. I couldn't tell my mother, and I certainly couldn't tell Peeta. Maybe it was safer to tell someone who wouldn't remember in the morning. Even if it was only for a moment, someone somewhere would know. I sighed, releasing Haymitch's hand, turning to walk towards the door. As I walked towards the door, I heard him recovering, the creak of the wooden chair accented by the slosh of liquid in a glass bottle.

"Don't you worry about our little spitfire," he said. "She'll be with ray of sunshine Peeta Mellark from here on out. Gale is yours."

I smiled to myself, reaching towards to doorknob. Although I'd never go so far as to say that my visit with Haymitch was pleasant, I more or less accomplished what I wanted. At least one other person would be working in my favor towards destroying Katniss, even if he didn't know it. But I did have to say, the old drunk was fairly well behaved. For all the scathing things he'd said in the past, Haymitch was borderline cordial that night. As I turned the knob to peek outside, he got in his last few words.

"Although...I'm not exactly sure how far you're gonna get with Dark and Broody." Another slosh of liquid and the clink of an empty bottle on a wooden table. "Your family doesn't exactly have the best record with coal miners."

There it was.


	9. Chapter 8

Although my late-night meeting with Haymitch didn't exactly end on a light note, nothing in the world could bring me down. I practically skipped home through the darkness, thinking about my future with Gale. Being with him could initiate a whole new outlook on life for me. Maybe I didn't need to destroy Katniss after all. As dismal as Gale can be, he added a balance and a stability to my life that could potentially wash away all the hate I felt towards the Girl on Fire. Who cared what happened to her and Peeta? Now that I had him, I would no longer be compelled to dwell on the past. From here on out, I'd only looking forward to the future. Our future. I squealed with glee, leaping into the air with abandon, before I realized where I was and what time it was. I sighed. Even in the middle of autumn, with the multi-colored leaves whirling around, District 12 always found a way to be depressing and bleak.

I continued my walk home, subdued physically, but still feeling emotionally electric. I briefly considered walking towards Gale's house for a midnight rendezvous, but decided against it. Even though he'd most definitely be awake, seeing that he was just as nocturnal as I was, his mother and little siblings were probably sound asleep. And I couldn't afford to wake Posy in the middle of the night, as she'd certainly alert the others of a visitor. But as I turned a corner on the dirt path to my house, I stopped short. A middle aged man with gray, cropped hair stood on my porch, and I knew the yellowing light he stood in meant my mother was at the door. It was only a few moments before I realized that was going on. The man was speaking in short, gruff statements, and I could tell his usual range of motion was disrupted by the polished Peacekeeper uniform he wore. My thoughts swirled. Why was this man here? No Peacekeeper would visit a house in the middle of the night unless… Then it hit me. Unless someone was missing.

I ran back up the path towards the back of my house, then toed off my shoes and leapt for the wall. If I could make it up into my room before they heard me, I could hide in the closet or the bathroom and pretend I'd been there all along. I was grateful I'd left the window cracked earlier in the day. I slid it open as slowly as I could afford to, then flipped forward onto my bed with a loud squeak. Footsteps clomped across the wooden kitchen floor, loud steel-toed boots covering up the shuffle of my mother's slippers. I met them at the door.

"Mom? What's going on?" I said, rubbing my eye with one hand and placing the other on my hip. My sweater, which snagged on the window sill, now hung limply off my shoulder, aiding the bedraggled sleep-deprived look I was going for.

My mother peered over the Peacekeeper's shoulder. "I couldn't find you when I woke up a little while ago, so I went out looking for you. I figured you'd be with Hazelle or Madge, but halfway to the Hawthornes' house I was…detained." She delivered the last sentence with no small amount of poison in her voice, and if the man in front of me weren't trying so hard to be intimidating, I'm sure he would've shot her the deadliest look he could muster. "So, this nice Peacekeeper walked me home and was just about to start the search for you when we heard you rumbling around up here. Where were you, anyway?"

I took this time to yawn thoughtfully and look skyward, searching my sleep-fogged mind for the answer. My mother surely would've looked in my room, my closet, and the garden, my usual escapes. That means she also would've checked the kitchen, the living room, and the tiny patch of fenced in land that surrounded our house.

"Did you check the roof?" I asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

My mother shook her head, a mix of confusion and worry in her eyes. "No, I never would've guessed you'd be up on the roof."

I turned to walk towards my bed. "I was taking a nap, waiting for you to get home, so I thought I'd get up onto the roof and look at the stars while I waited." I walked over to the still-open window, demonstrating how I'd climbed up. "See, I just climbed up on the sill and hoisted myself up." I shrugged and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the fraying hem of my quilt between my fingers. "Guess I fell asleep waiting."

She finally understood what I was doing. Just as the man who still stood in the doorway starting walking towards me, she placed a small hand on his shoulder. "She had sleep problems when she was a baby. Fell asleep anywhere, anytime," she said, crossing her arms and tutting at me. "We're awfully sorry you went through all this trouble."

Between the confusing notion that a teenage girl would fall asleep on a tin roof and having to be out policing a mother and daughter in the middle of the night, the Peacekeeper standing in my bedroom seemed to be equal parts angry and dumbfounded. He simply huffed and shouldered past my mother, nearly knocking her down in the process. "Don't let it happen again."

My mother didn't exhale until she heard the man slam our kitchen door behind him. I shook my head, laughing incredulously. "Who was that guy? I mean, what is his deal?"

She ignored me. "Swann. You have to tell me what's going on." I started to answer, but she cut me off right away. "Please. No more lies," she said, starting to tear up. "Tell me the truth."

I couldn't tell her I was with Gale; she'd definitely check with Hazelle when the morning came. But I certainly couldn't tell her I was busy plotting Katniss' demise. "I was with Haymitch."

The disgust that spread across her face was blatant and quite abundant. "Haymitch Abernathy?" she screamed. "What the hell were you doing hanging around that rude, belligerent, no-account, worthless-"

"Dad didn't think he was worthless," I shouted back. Now I was upset. "What would he say if he knew you were talking about his best friend like that, huh?"

My mother looked at me, opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again. One tear ran down her cheek. The worst thing she could say to me was nothing at all. For all the sassy remarks and hurtful comments my mother had directed towards me over the years, nothing hurt me worse than having her saying nothing. I knew I'd gone too far by bringing my father into the argument, but this was no time to back down. I could patch things up better in the morning, but for now, I simply had to cover the wound.

"Mom, I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset. But with everyone so crazy about the new victors, I was worried about Haymitch. Worried everyone would just forget him and leave him to drink himself to death." Although I knew my mother had nothing good to say about him, no-account drunkard as he was, she knew how important Haymitch had been to my father. They grew up together, and my dad was one of the only men in 12 who was sympathetic enough to stay friends with him after he won the Hunger Games some twenty-four years ago. After the mining accident, he was left without a single friend in the District, and that's when he really set in to the drinking.

"Well did you have to go in the middle of the night? You scared me half to death, Swann," replied my mother, walking towards me. She took my face in her hands, looking at me for what seemed like forever before she spoke again. "I can't lose both of you."

"I know," I sighed. And I really did. After my father died, we both shut everyone out but each other. And until I got married, if that day ever came, that's all we'd have: each other. I guess that's what scared her about be spending time with Gale, or Peeta, or anyone that could potentially take me away from her. "No more midnight walks. I promise."

I was lying, and she knew it, but she just shook her head and started shuffling back towards her room. "Go hunting with Gale tomorrow. I want to make stew for dinner."

Even though her back was to me, I nodded slowly. "Yes ma'am." And as I sat in bed, this time for good, I went back over the turbulent events of the day. The morning I spent with Peeta was fairly productive for my plan at the moment, but after my meeting of sorts with Gale, it was practically a waste of time. I spent my first walk to Victor's Village calculating which of Katniss's boys I planned to steal from her, and my second walk there nearly floating on air just from the thought of being with Gale. That breakfast with Katniss's new fiance was now essentially null and void, since I'd decided not to pursue being with him. But I still had the option of being friends with Peeta, which could be useful in the future. I wasn't one to squander something that potentially important just because of love. Love. Now I could think it out loud. Was that really me, saying that word to myself? Did I love Gale? Just consciously thinking his name sent giggling, warm currents through me, and I felt flushed despite the cold air dribbling through my window. Three or four of Gale's meticulously thrown pebbles still rested on my windowsill. Gale Hawthorne. I felt almost relieved to know that I was in his heart. I wasn't getting too far ahead of myself; I knew he hadn't get said out loud that he loved me. Which was fair, because I hadn't said it out loud either. But that was one constant thing about Gale. He'd show you the way he felt a hundred times over before he'd say a single world. And although I wasn't sure if I was the love of his life quite yet, I knew he cared about me in some way that was stronger than just friendship.

Tomorrow would be the perfect day for spending some quality time with Gale. Sunday was the best day for hunting, and with Katniss so occupied with all her bridal bliss, I'd have the chance to go hunting with him, with just the two of us. Without having to say it outright, I could figure out how he really felt about me before fully committing to him. With Gale by my side, I might be able to remove the Girl on Fire almost completely from my life, and focus on my new life as the future Mrs. Hawthorne. Swann Hawthorne. That did have quite a nice ring to it.


	10. Chapter 9

I woke up early Sunday morning, ready to start my new life with Gale. I got dressed a quickly as I could, still pulling on a sweater with one hand and my pants with the other as I hopped down the stairs. My mother, who already sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, met me with a quizzical look, but I flew past her with a brush of a kiss. "I'm headed out to see Gale," I called as I grabbed my boots by the door. I waited until I got outside to sit and put them on. I loved my mother, but we both needed more time apart before we addressed our fight from the night before. As I sprang up from my concrete steps and flung open my front gate, I realized I'd started running to the Hawthorne's house. I reminded myself to slow down just as I caught sight of Posy, who skipped along the front edge of their lawn.

"Swann!" she exclaimed, and began running towards me. I scooped her up with one hand and used the other to tickle her.

"Where's your brother, you little stinker?" I asked.

She simply shook her tousled brown head, toying with the necklace that rested on my chest. "I dunno. I think Vick and Mommy are at the Hob. Gale is gonna hunt with Katniss." She paused to think, then shook her head again. "I dunno where Rory is."

I sighed. Unfortunately, this was a normal occurrence at the Hawthorne house. Hazelle would run errands, and Vick was more attached to his mother than the other children were, so he'd go with her. Rory would go off "hunting" or trying to find odd jobs, and trying to guess where Gale was could literally take all day. That left little four-year-old Posy to wander around on her own. During the week Hazelle was much more observant of the littlest Hawthorne, but I assumed from Posy's report that Rory was meant to be watching her for today. I sighed again, wrapping my other arm around her. "Let's go, pumpkin."

Posy absolutely bounced with excitement, nearly bouncing out of my arms. "Ooh, where are we going?" she asked, beside herself with excitement.

I smiled. "We're gonna go see Katniss."

"Really? I love Katniss!" Posy squealed, arching her tiny body towards the sun.

"Me too, baby. I love her too."

Walking to Victor's Village that morning was a lot more social than my last two walks to and from the lonely, five-person neighborhood. Many people walked to and from the square, carrying meager groceries or items for trading at the Hob. Women with children of their own greeted me as I strolled past with Posy on my hip; older couples that walked hand in hand smiled knowingly at each other. I didn't notice until later how many Peacekeepers walked among the District citizens.

Arriving at the Everdeen house, I put Posy down to knock on the door, but instead the four-year-old took that as an opportunity to slam into the door at top speed, knocking it open with the force of her little body. Standing down the foyer in the kitchen was Prim, who stood at a counter mixing the contents of a large bowl with a wooden spoon. She promptly threw the spoon into the air and ran towards Posy and me, hugging us both at once.

"Swann! I didn't know you would be here!" she exclaimed. "I was just about to make brunch, did you want some too?" Posy pouted and reared back her little foot, aiming it at Prim's exposed shin. Ignoring the littlest Hawthorne was a major offense in District 12. Prim looked down and side-stepped Posy's kick right in time, then scooped her up with both hands. "You can have some brunch too if you behave, you little creature," she laughed, carrying her off to the kitchen and leaving me to trail behind them.

"Actually Prim," I spoke up, "I'm not staying for brunch. I was looking for Gale."

She shot me a devious look over her shoulder while Posy toyed with her braid, blissfully unaware of what Prim's gaze seemed to be implying. She turned back around, continuing to walk towards the kitchen. "Gale isn't here. But he did stop by earlier."

I swallowed. I could guess why he stopped by. "And where's Katniss?"

"She's upstairs," said Prim with another smirk. "Did you wanna go up and say hi?"

Now it was my turn to grin. "No, I think I'll be fine. I'd better get going then," I said, kissing Posy on the top of her head. "Where did you say Gale was again?"

"I didn't," Prim laughed. She'd clearly been spending more time around her cynical older sister than around me, that's for sure. But something else was different about her. In less than a year's time, she'd gone from an innocent and oblivious child, not unlike Posy, to a competent and very capable girl. A young lady. I shook the sentimental thoughts out of my head and grabbed a dish towel, winding it around my hands and aiming it at Prim's still knobby knees.

"Then where is he?" I asked, lifting the towel high above my head, as if I would strike at any moment if she refused to tell me.

"Relax, relax!" she laughed, "he's at the Hob getting some rope for snares."

I smiled, dropping the towel onto the nearby kitchen table. "Alright, I better head out." I ruffled Posy's hair one last time, then brushed Prim's cheek with a kiss as I head towards the door.

"You'd better hurry if you want to catch him before he goes into the forest," she called after me.

I heeded her warning, picking up the pace of my stride once I passed the front gate of Victor's Village. I was a little worried I would have run into Katniss while at the Everdeen's, but my short visit wasn't unlike visits Prim and I shared while Katniss was away in the Capitol. Especially since the Hawthorne boys were so prone to leaving Posy in the dust, I spent many a summer evening sitting with the two youngest sisters of both families, watching the fireflies flicker across the sky and praying for Katniss's return.

I made my way through the square, winding my way through the crowd that seemed to fill the usually empty streets. Dozens of people stood in front of the justice building, watching a train that looked like it had recently pulled into the station. My curiosity got the best of me after a few moments of trying to ignore the rowdy people, their usual chatter punctuated by gasps and exclamations. But before I could catch a glimpse at what was happening, someone I knew from a long time ago caught a glimpse at me.

"Bristel?" I asked. The overall-clad woman smiled and pulled me into a hug, clapping my back with great gusto.

"Swann!" she exclaimed. "How are you? How's your mother?"

"Hello Bristel," I said, smiling. "We're just fine. How are you?"

"I've been alright, just the same old routine. Until today," she said, jerking her head towards the center of the square. Now enough people had dissipated that I could see what all the fuss was about. Two men dresses in coal miner's overalls were drilling a medieval-looking metal structure into the ground. "Just look at the contraptions they're putting in now," she said. After looking for a moment longer, I realized what they were. Stocks and a whipping post. Things I'd only ever seen in books.

"What's going on? Why are they here?"

She shook her head. "We musta done something to piss of the Capitol. I haven't seen anything like that since I was your age. Younger, even." She sighed, her eyes following the people as they finished installing the metal frames and walked away, leaving the torture devices gleaming in the late autumn sun. She took one final look at the square and the people gathered, then turned on her heel, leading me from the fray. I tried to look over my shoulder, but she wrapped her arm around my shoulder, turning me away. "You don't wanna see those, sweetie. Trust me. There's nothing to see. Not yet."

I decided to drop the subject and come back later to see for myself. "I have to go now, but I'll see you later."

Bristel nodded, stroking my hair with one hand. "I'll see you around Swann. Tell your mother I asked about her."

With that, she strode off towards town, leaving me to ponder for myself. I looked around to see if I knew any of the Peacekeepers that stood guarding the train station and shooing citizens away, but I didn't see any of the usual guards by their posts. Thinking back the the morning, I didn't recognize a single one of the white-uniformed figures that made their rounds. What was going on? I shook my head and redirected myself towards the Hob, which bustled with people and audible chatter from a hundred yards away. I ached to see Gale now that I'd been sidetracked from heading towards him already. A couple of hours in the woods with him would bring such much needed clarity.

"Gale!" I shouted upon seeing him standing in front of a small wooden stall. I could see the top of his head over the surge of people, and I desperately made my way towards him, calling to him all the way. "I'm so glad I found you!" He nodded absentmindedly, looking over my head as if some trouble was coming towards us. "Listen, Gale, did you see what was going on in the-"

But that was as far as I got before I spotted yet another Peacekeeper that paced by the stalls, baton in hand, pushing people aside with each step. Gale instinctively grabbed my arms, shoving me behind the stall where we stood and following close behind me. "I gotta go. Things are getting too busy around here." I took his meaning. Hunting was technically illegal in 12, but Cray and the other Peacekeepers never had a problem with having fresh meat before. But with this crop of Capitol police walking around with batons and scowls, it might have been time to be a little more discreet. Gale busied his hands stuffing his things into the burlap bag he carried: several lengths of rope, small metal awls, and a hunting knife.

"Are you going still hunting? Can I go with you? My mother wants me to-"

"You have to stay here." He paused, looking up at my face. As stoic as I tried to be, I'm sure I wore the expression of a puppy whose tail had recently been stepped on. "No, Swann, it's just that - just forget it." He sighed, putting his head his hands for a moment before he continued. I waited patiently, drawing my knees to my chest in anticipation. He looked up at me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "It's too dangerous for you to come with me. Things are pretty turbulent right now, and you'd only slow me down." My mouth dropped open, despite my previous promise to myself to show as little emotion as possible. This was no way to talk to one's future wife. "It's just that, I just haven't really taught you how to hunt yet, and I have to do double the work since Katniss doesn't really hunt anymore." If it's double the work, then you need double the people! Take me with you! I fumed in my head, but I sat pouting until Gale finished the longest speech I'd heard him give in a while. "Another time. I promise," he said, planting a kiss on my forehead and standing to walk out to the forest.

I gave myself a moment to sulk at being left behind, then I stood and weaved through the Hob until I saw daylight again. Brushing the seat of my pants as I walked, I made myself think rationally. Gale was right. Things were getting a little too exciting in 12, what with the return of the victors and the installment of new Peacekeepers and now the Capitol train in the station. And Gale was the type of person who chose his words and his kisses carefully. I'm sure he wouldn't have sent me away just because.

I shook my head, starting to walk towards my house. I planned to take a short nap, then head back to the Hob in a couple of hours. By then, Gale would most likely be coming in from hunting, and I could go with him to deliver game. Upon arriving at my house, I toed off my boots and slipped out of my sweater, sleeping on top of my sheets to make for a quick getaway once my nap was over. I barely got back into the square before I was stopped by a crowd, one even bigger than the one a few hours before. I opened my mouth to ask what was going on, but the only thing that came out was a scream.


	11. Chapter 10

It took me a few moments to realize that the first scream hadn't come from me. Strapped to one of the metal contraptions that the Peacekeepers set up earlier, back covered in bloody stripes, was Gale Hawthorne, screaming for all he was worth.

Then I screamed, for real this time. I hadn't realized I was in front of the crowd until a pair of hands were struggling to hold me back. It was Bristel, with a single tear rolling down her cheek and her lips taut and unmoving. I turned back to face Gale, who let his head lean against the metal post, sobbing heavily. I fell to my knees, helpless to watch as he received another lash. His back arched in pain, and his face was a contorted mask of agony. I reached out to him weakly, still unable to believe what I was seeing. But the next lash brought me gruesome clarity: blood flew from the whip as it was pulled from Gale's back, and I felt the hot spatter against my face and outstretched hands. I screamed again, struggling to my feet in a vain attempt to get to Gale. But Bristel held me tight, preventing me from reaching him.

The Peacekeeper who was whipping Gale noticed my screams and turned around angrily, striding towards us with his whip held high overhead. "Will you shut that damn girl up?"

A small woman stepped in front of me, shielding me with her own body. "Yes sir. Sorry, sir."

"I thought so," said the man, walking back towards Gale and the post. Through my tears, I realized that he was the same man that was at my house the night before, interrogating my mother about my whereabouts. Where was Cray? What was going on?

The woman in front of me turned around to face me and stroked my face. "Now you have to be quiet, girl, or he'll whip you too!" she hissed. "Do you understand?"

I whimpered in response, still half-heartedly straining against Bristel. Although it pained me to my core, I just couldn't look away from Gale, kneeling there on the cold, dirty pavement. What could he have possibly done wrong? I leaned forward, dry-heaving, while Bristel rubbed my back. My thoughts were interrupted a second time when I looked up to see another girl running to protect Gale. And she was much more successful than me.

The crowd sucked in a breath as the Darling of the Capitol took the business end of a whip across the left side of her face and promptly fell to the dirt. Not far from her laid a Peacekeeper I recognized as Darius, although he wasn't moving. I can only assume the same thing happened to him: he tried to interfere and the Head Peacekeeper had none of it.

But Katniss recovered extraordinarily well, and she sprung to her feet to run to Gale. From the ground, she shielded his bloody body with her own, her eyes daring the new Peacekeeper to strike her again. But before the whip could come down again, another voice rang out from the crowd.

"Hold it!" someone called out in a gravelly voice. Soon after, the owner of the voice emerged. He nearly fell over Darius as he made his way towards the whipping post, but he trudged on until her stood face to face with the man holding the whip. Haymitch rolled his eyes upon seeing Katniss on the ground, still protecting Gale as best she could as blood began running down her cheek. He then turned to face the Peacekeeper again. "She's got a photo shoot next week modeling wedding dresses. What am I supposed to tell her stylist?"

The man looked incredulously from Haymitch to Katniss, then back to Haymitch again. The wheels beginning to turn in his gray head, he tried desperately to regain his composure. "She interrupted the punishment of a confessed criminal," he said.

Haymitch pushed past him, walking towards Katniss and Gale. "I don't care if she blew up the blasted Justice Building! Look at her cheek!" Haymitch said gruffly. "Think that will be camera ready in a week?"

The man, who clearly knew nothing about being camera ready, shrugged. He continued talking to Haymitch, and their anger grew with each word. Suddenly, Peeta emerged from the crowd, joining Katniss. The tension in the square was tangible: everyone waited, holding their breath, anxious to see what the final outcome would be. I stared hard a Gale, who still kneeled facing the post, unable to turn and see who was coming to his aid.

I snapped back to attention when I saw the Head Peacekeeper coming towards me, whip still half-raised. "Is that the standard protocol here?" he bellowed.

Is what standard protocol? What was he talking about? I shook with fear as he approached. But before he could reach me, the woman who protected me the first time spoke up again.

"Yes sir," she said, accompanied by a chorus of echoes around her. Whatever question the man was asking had apparently been answered, and he turns back to a still-crouching Katniss and delivers his final warning. I'm barely aware of what he's saying, but somewhere in there the words "poaching" and "firing squad" find their place. He cleaned his whip with one last swipe, then strode off towards the Justice Building.

Only then do I piece together what happened. Gale must have brought his usual offering of turkey to Cray's house, only to find this brutal man in his place. Although poaching was technically illegal, our Peacekeepers looked the other way when it came to having extra food. But clearly, this man who replaced Cray was not nearly as lenient. Turning back to the moment at hand, I saw Katniss and Peeta struggling to free Gale from the post. After they untie his hands, they placed him face-down on a wooden board. I leapt to my feet, running towards them. But before joining them, I slowed my pace and walked behind. Katniss would probably rip out my throat if I tried to console her now. Better to let her calm down first. Our previously heavy steps become padded as snow fell, covering District 12 in a cold and silencing blanket.

Upon reaching the Everdeens' kitchen, Haymitch and Peeta placed Gale on their counter, and he moaned loudly in protest.

"New Head," Haymitch announced, by way of explanation, and Mrs. Everdeen simply nodded and began to gather healing supplies. Since I trained under her for a few summers, I made myself as useful as I could, fetching anything that wasn't in her immediate reach. After a few moments, Prim joined me, filling the kitchen tables with bottles and vials of every shape, size, and color. Soon Mrs. Everdeen shooed us away and mixed the contents of the bottles and vials in a large pot. Prim and I began preparing another mixture as Mrs. Everdeen turned to her oldest daughter and Haymitch to get the full story and assess the damage done to Katniss's face. I couldn't tell exactly what they were saying, but she gave a curt nod to the two of them and turned back to Gale, and began to clean his back with a cloth soaked in the first mixture.

I nearly threw up before starting to cry again. I was just so sickened by the sight of Gale's bloody back. I hardly realized I was swaying until Bristel was at my side again, giving my shoulders a light squeeze. "Tell your mother I said hello. Take care of Hazelle," she said, walking towards the door. I followed her out and made my way down the stairs. I stumbled through the snow until I stood halfway between Katniss's house and Peeta's house. I pitched forward, kneeling in the snow until my head stopped reeling. I began to process what Bristel told me. I hadn't even thought of my mother. She was probably worried sick. And Hazelle must be too. Had someone already told her what happened to her son? Just thinking about it made my cry again. Although there was no way I could have stopped his whipping, I somehow felt guilty for it. Maybe if I hadn't delayed him from going out into the woods, he would've gone by the Head Peacekeeper's house while he was out.

Just then, someone placed their hand on my shoulder, and I jerked my head up to see Hazelle Hawthorne standing above me, face streaked with tears.

"I'm so sorry Hazelle, I didn't mean to-"

"Oh sweetheart," she said, stroking my face. "I know. It's okay." This sent me convulsing in tears again, and Hazelle knelt by me, rubbing my back. "Shh, baby, it's okay. It's not your fault, it's okay."

She sat with me for a few moments before heading inside and leaving me to my tears. I sat in the snow, sniffing back my tears. My toes were beginning to sting from the cold, so I slowly stood and walked towards the house. As I entered the kitchen, I heard Katniss screaming profanities, and I caught a glimpse of her kicking form being hauled up the stairs by Peeta and Haymitch. Then a softer, much quieter voice caught my attention.

"Swann," came the laboured call. I was by Gale's side before he could say another word. Hazelle slumped in a chair nearby, her anxiety finally overcome by sleep.

"Gale," I whispered. Just saying his name wouldn't really mean anything to him, but it now meant the world to me. Just saying his name would assure him that I was there for him. I held his face in both of my hands, leaning forward until our foreheads touched. "I'm so sorry, Gale." I kissed him slowly, trying desperately to find a way to help heal his pain. I wanted to take his place, to transfer some of his pain to me. I started crying again, pulling away from him as my tears dropped to the floor between us. "I'm so sorry."

Gale simply exhaled. "It's okay," he said, resting his head against the hard wooden table. I could tell by the taste of his mouth that Mrs. Everdeen had given him sleep syrup, the sweet, candy-like taste of it vaguely coating my lips. I sat by his side, kneeling on the floor with his hand against my forehead, until I heard the doorbell ring, followed by a chorus of footsteps coming down the stairs. I dove under the table to wait.

As Mrs. Everdeen opened the front door, I peeked around a table leg to see that it was Madge Undersee, standing snow-covered in the doorway with a cardboard box. Upon opening the box, the Everdeen women discover that it contained a dozen little vials of medicine. But before anyone could thank her, she dashed away back into the snow, leaving everyone speechless. Everyone except Haymitch.

"Crazy girl," he chuckled as the door shut behind her. As they make their way into the kitchen, I hear Gale moaning above me, beginning to shift back and forth in pain. Before he could bother his bandages too much, Mrs. Everdeen injected a needle filled with the painkillers into his arm, and his hand goes slack in mine. After some more witty banter, compliments of Haymitch and Katniss, they all retreated to the family room, leaving Prim behind to cook.

I waited under the table for a few minutes before crawling out. I unfolded one leg after the other, leaning forward into each small step as slowly as possible. But before I could even stand to my full height, I heard a small and musical voice behind me.

"Do you want a bowl of soup to go?" Prim asks quietly. "Your mother must be worried sick."

I shook my head, laughing. Prim saw right through me every time, ever since she was a little girl. "No, I better head on home, sweetie. But thank you." I double back towards her, planting a kiss on the top of her little blonde head before turning back towards the door.

"You can kiss Gale again if you want. I won't tell."

There was no fooling this little girl. Well, not such a little girl anymore. I knelt back in my original spot, kissing Gale one last time before leaving. He kissed me back this time. And the kiss was even sweeter.


	12. Chapter 11

On the walk back home, carefully hidden in the snow, I couldn't stop myself from thinking about Gale. The agony in his screams as the Head Peacekeeper whipped him, the splatter of his blood on my face, seeing him writhing in pain on Katniss's kitchen table. It was all too much to think about it, and before I knew it, I was kneeling in the snow again, doubled over in grief. Deep down I knew it wasn't my fault, but the guilt I felt was so overwhelming I could hardly breathe. The snow was starting to seep through the knees of my pants, and my fingers and toes felt numb. But I didn't care. It wasn't even a fraction of the pain that Gale had felt.

"Jesus Christ," came an exasperated sigh behind me. I didn't even bother to turn around to see who it was. Let them come to me. I didn't care. "Listen kid," said Haymitch, squatting in front of me, "this wasn't your fault. It was nobody's fault. You gotta stop blaming yourself for stuff like this."

He wasn't wrong. At ten years old I blamed myself for my father's death, although it had nothing to do with me. I blamed myself for my mother's collapse and several relapses there after. It was just in my nature to hold myself responsible for the injury or unhappiness of those I loved. And Gale was no different. I should've known the night before that that man was the new Head. I should've warned Gale. I should've been the one to catch the whip, not Katniss. That sent me into another round of snotty sobs. Once again, I had been bested by Katniss Everdeen, who, it seemed, would stop at nothing to make me look bad. I'm sure she was sitting with Gale as we spoke, stroking his forehead and kissing his hands. And he was so drugged up, I'm sure he wouldn't object.

"Wh-why is she always bu-bu-better than me?" I keened, pitching forward into the snow. Haymitch caught me before my face hit the ground, and we sat there for a few moments, awkwardly embracing. "Why does she ha-have to take everything?"

Haymitch laughed. "You really don't like this girl, do you?"

Another sniffle. "No."

He shook his head, pulling me to my feet as he stood. "You're gonna have to get over that, sweetheart. No matter what you do, there's gonna be a lot of her around District 12 from here on out. So you need to think. What do you want? Because I can tell you right now, Katniss is going nowhere fast."

I took a moment before answering, still leaning on Haymitch for support. "I want Gale," I finally choked out.

"Then you've got to leave Katniss alone. Whatever you're trying to do to her, you've got to stop. Because she could turn Gale against you in less than a heartbeat," he said, starting to walk towards my house with me in tow. "I know, young love is eternal and all that crap. But those two have been depending on each other since before the dawn of time. So you need to tread lightly."

Although he didn't say it in the friendliest way, Haymitch was right. They didn't call Katniss the Girl on Fire for nothing. Messing with her was playing with fire, especially now that I had a real emotional connection to Gale. She could turn him on me just to spite me, and there's nothing I could do in retaliation. I nodded finally, turning toward Haymitch and trying to meet his eye. "Okay." We walked on for a little while longer before I added, "Thanks."

"Whatever," he said, refusing to meet my gaze.

I felt a little guilty for having him walk me home. I knew his specialty wasn't babysitting, and that's exactly what I was at that moment: a baby. I shook my head and looked forward down the snow-covered road. Love makes people weak and emotional and irrational. Just take Katniss for example. She went from a stony and indifferent woman to a love-crazed girl in a matter of month. She wouldn't think twice about letting someone besides her family starve in the street, and now she was diving in front of whips to save her "cousin". But surely the change in Peacekeepers had something to do with her. Why else would they do away with Cray? The citizens of 12 had done nothing to upset the Capitol since the rebellion. As the smallest and the last District, any known dissenters in 12 were alone in their fight for freedom. We all know what happened to 13 when they rebelled. Now all that was left of them was rubble and old footage.

In a few minutes, we reached my front porch. But I turned Haymitch away before he could knock on the door. "My mother will be furious," I said, pushing him away. "You don't want to deal with her."

He didn't need convincing, and promptly turned away, jumping off the first step and retreating to Victor's Village."

"Thanks again," I called after him.

"Sure," he said, disappearing into the snow.

I braced myself, then pushed open my front door. Sure enough, there sat my mother at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of hot tea and a worried expression. "And just where the hell were you?" she shouted, rushing towards me.

"It was Gale," I said before she reached me, causing her to stop short and take in my appearance. Snow-stained knees, and my face still streaked with tears, my mother's expression turned from one of anger to one of concern.

"What happened to-"

"It was the new Head Peacekeeper. The one who came by our house last night. They found Gale with a turkey and they tied him to the post and they whipped him." I walked past her before she could react, taking a seat at the kitchen table and taking her abandoned cup of tea in my hands. "They whipped him in the middle of the square and I had to sit there at watch it and there was nothing I could do." I felt even more tears starting to squeeze out of my eyes, but I snarked them back with a couple of sharp sniffs. "So that's where the hell I was."

She walked towards me, hands outstretched, but thought better of it. "I'm sorry, Swann," she said, placing her hands by her side. "We'll go by and see him tomorrow, alright?" With that, she turned towards the stairs and began to make her way to her room, no doubt feeling guilty for Gale was out hunting for meat that she'd requested. Of course, he would have been hunting anyway, but I inherited my irrational worrying from somewhere, and it wasn't from my father.

"Goodnight, Mom," I called after her. No response, only a softly closed door. Fine. _Let her be mad, _I thought. I was mad too, and she had every right to be. She'd probably calm down by the morning, as the Lockhearst women often did. I sighed, finishing the tea and heading up the stairs myself. I knew that what happened to Gale couldn't have possibly been my fault, but it still hurt knowing that Katniss leapt to his aid before I could. And as I lay in bed later that night, that little thought started gnawing at me. Katniss was the one that jumped in front of a whip. Gale was lying on Katniss's table, sedated by medicine brought to him by one of Katniss's friends.

One last tear squeezed out of my eye as I turned to my side to face my window. I would never be rid of her. I would never stop owing her. I could never best her. Just the thought of her being so close to Gale made me burn all I knew, she was kissing him as he laid on that kitchen table, the same way I had. I laughed. Now wouldn't that be something?


End file.
